


II. 'Cause all of our moves make up for the silence

by Ischa



Series: Untitled Harry/Pansy/Draco [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, F/M, M/M, Multi, Sexual Content, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 03:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is about how Harry finds himself in a relationship with Pansy and Draco.</p><p><i>“Parkinson!” She turns to look at him.<br/>“What?”<br/>“Wanna go for a coffee?”<br/>“You damaged your head recently?” she wants to know.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	II. 'Cause all of our moves make up for the silence

**Title:** II. 'Cause all of our moves make up for the silence  
 **Pairing:** Harry/Draco/Pansy  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Summary:** This is about how Harry finds himself in a relationship with Pansy and Draco.  
 **Warning(s):** mentiones of sex  
 **Author’s Notes:** Follows 'FIve minutes at Kings Cross Station'. Title stolen from Fall out boy.  
 **Word Count:** 2.248  
 **Beta:** endure  
 **Disclaimer:** Don’t know, don’t own, not real.

\--+--  
He is _so_ not stalking Parkinson. Or Malfoy, for that matter. He is not. It’s really just his bad luck…or they are stalking him. That makes so much more sense than HIM stalking THEM. He doesn’t even know what Malfoy is doing these days. Really.  
It’s just bad luck.  
Parkinson is laughing in the late spring-sun, sitting on a bench near a playground. She looks relaxed and nice and somehow beautiful and he can’t help himself…what the fuck, he thinks. She never was beautiful or interesting, for that matter, in school. She sure as hell isn’t in his dreams…Don’t think about that now!  
He questions his sanity. How can he not, really…watching Malfoy as he watches Parkinson as she watches the children playing, who aren’t watching anything in particular. Up to no good, Ron would say…but Hermione would question his motives and his sanity as well. Could be the reason why he hasn’t said anything about the ‘station-accident’ and his interest in Malfoy’s skin…and Parkinson’s mouth.  
He feels like an idiot because really…they’re just sitting there, Malfoy smiling at something she tells him…and the sun is shining and the faint scent of wild garlic is in the air and everything is really just …a huge mess.

~*~  
A week after the ‘park-stalking-accident’ (and how come his life is divided in accidents now?), he sees Parkinson outside a flower-shop. Some guy is hitting on her and he can see the rage in her eyes – clearly she said "no" more than once. She is quick with her wand and vicious like every Slytherin. He doesn’t want her to get in trouble (or that’s what he tells himself) so he goes over.

“Problems, Parkinson?” he asks. She gives him a nasty look, but then smiles. He is taken aback.

“Potter…yeah…that thing,” she points at the guy, “just can’t take a no for an answer. Would you be so kind as to hex him?” she asks sweetly. He looks at her.

“Well…” he says, the guy backs off, because he is Harry Potter and everyone is just a little bit afraid of Dark Lord Banishers. Who can blame him? When he’s gone she turns to look him in the eyes.

“So, Potter…couldn’t find any puppy to rescue?” she asks.

“I just wanted to help, Parkinson!”

“Yes, so it seems…but you know we are a cunning folk….” she says sweetly.

“Yeah, maybe, but you don’t trust anyone,” he answers.

“We do,” she says defiantly. He smiles.

“You don’t trust me then?” he asks looking at her, she really is quite beautiful. With dark eyes and dark curly hair, not slim, with a lot of curves. Malfoy’s opposite – funny: people said he was Malfoy’s opposite.

“No, because, Potter, …” she leans into his personal space; he can feel her breath on his skin – smell her (something sweet: cacao and butter-vanilla maybe) , “you don’t trust me either.”  
True. But he wants to deny it anyway. Wants to say something lame like: things have changed. She seems to sense it. “Don’t even start…” she says. He keeps quiet.  
She laughs. “And just so you know, I could have taken him….” He so doesn’t think anything sexual right now. He plain doesn’t.

“I know,” he answers.

“Good.” She nods and turns to leave. He hesitates just a few seconds.

“Parkinson!” She turns to look at him.

“What?”

“Wanna go for a coffee?”

“You damaged your head recently?” she wants to know.

“What? NO!” She looks skeptical.

“Are you hitting on me?”

“No!” he says, well yes…could be.

“You sure?”

“Why, would you like that?”

“Maybe,” she says, shrugging.

“Do you want to or not?”

“Are you paying?” He nods.

~*~  
“I was drinking coffee with Potter today,” she says, sitting down on the couch, and even to her own ears she sounds disbelieving.

“Funny. Pansy, really,” he answers not looking up from the book he’s reading. He doesn’t believe her.

“No, really, a guy was hitting on me and he did his puppy-saving-thing and asked me out.”

“You’re hardly a puppy, Pansy,” Draco says and then looking up: “Wait! You said yes?”

“Yeah…” her eyes are closed.

“You really want to fuck him, don’t you?” he asks. She opens her eyes.

“Maybe…” she smiles. He just looks at her silently. “Are you mad?” she wants to know.

“No…I’m not,” he answers. He really isn’t…it’s just…he KNEW, but.

“Really?” she asks softly, standing up and walking over to him. She sits down on the floor, her head on his knee, her hand fisted in his black robe.

“Really,” he answers stroking her soft hair.

“I won't do it if you’re mad at me…but Draco, I want him so bad,” she whispers.

“How can I deny you anything? But you know I will kill him if he does something to you.”

“Draco! I want him do something to me,” she says, smiling.

~*~  
Dating Potter is…exactly what she thought it would be. It’s boring. She doesn’t want to go to fancy restaurants and…  
“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” she screams at her mirror.

“That bad?” Draco asks poking his head in.

“Even worse. If he makes me go to another restaurant I will kill him. I will. I swear,” she says taking her dress off.

“Did he kiss you?”

“Oh, you’re kidding right?” she says sarcastically.

“Is he an idiot?” Draco asks, sitting down on her bed.

“And that is a theoretical question, right?” her eyebrow is raised: never a good sign.

“Come here.” She does.  
It’s time he takes things into his hands.

  
“Potter,” he says, spotting the git with his friends near a bookshop. He isn’t sneering at Weasley and that has to count as good behaviour.

“Malfoy.” Potter nods.

“A word.” Not a question and Harry has really no idea why this is…so hot. It shouldn’t be.

“Yeah…” he says, leaving his protesting friends and walking a few steps at Malfoy’s side.

“You are not fucking Pansy,” Malfoy says.

“What the hell! It’s none of your business what I do with her.” Potter replies after a shocked minute of silence.

“Clearly you are not doing her.” Draco answers.  
What can you say to that?

  
“I talked with Potter today,” Draco announces when he gets home.

“You did?” she asks.

“Yes, I said that, didn’t I?”

“Draco!”

“Yeah…would you let me finish or what? Women, really!” She laughs. “I think he will fuck you now,” Draco says looking at her.

“He will?” She is sitting on the floor reading a book about medieval spells.

“If he isn’t a total nutcase…he will. Yes. Or we have to kill him – the world would be so much safer without idiots walking the ground.”

“I love you, you know that?”

“Of course, how can you not?” he answers grinning.

“Jerk!”

“I love you too.”

~*~  
Draco can hear them through the wall. He knows she does it on purpose. She isn’t loud though, she’s just…Pansy and he would grin if he wasn’t currently so busy fisting his cock and biting his lip, so he doesn’t moan and cry out when he comes.  
Pansy crawls into his bed an hour later.

“Was it good?” she wants to know. He smiles.

“Well, I could ask you the same question, but I heard you,” he answers with a sleepy grin. She kisses the corner of his mouth.

“I didn’t shower…” she says low. And that’s really hot, he thinks.

  
The next morning, Draco is sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee from his favourite mug when Potter comes in and freezes in the door.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Good morning to you too…” Draco answers, and Pansy says coming out of the bathroom:

“That was really rude, Potter.” And sits down, stealing Draco’s mug. Draco smiles.

“That was what?!” Potter still stands in the doorway, not moving, just looking at them. THEM. Not just Pansy’s nude body.

“Rude.” Pansy says and then: “Do you want some coffee?”  
He nods because, yes he wants some coffee, because coffee is NORMAL!

~*~  
It’s two weeks after the ‘nude-in-the-kitchen-accident’. He hears Pansy sing in the shower and then hears Draco hum the same song under his breath.  
He watches Draco’s pale scarred back as he makes breakfast for them. Harry didn’t even know Draco could cook at all.

“You don’t have house elves?” he asks and feels stupid for it because…hey, Draco is making breakfast.

“No.” Draco answers anyway putting a mug on the table.

Things aren’t easier because he’s finally fucking Pansy, they should be, but they are not: he still thinks half his time about Draco and this so isn’t helping.

  
At the end of the third week he wakes in the middle of the night and finds her gone. Her cacao butter-vanilla scent lingering in the air. He doesn’t think about it much, because she could be in the kitchen or the bathroom…so he just turns and drifts off again.  
The next time he wakes up – it’s still dark – she is back; her body radiating warmth, he buries his nose in her neck and…there is something off because it’s not cacao and butter-vanilla anymore, there is a hint of cinnamon and pepper maybe… and he wonders where it comes from.

  
Draco just makes breakfast on Saturdays Harry finds out after week four. They don’t talk much. But that’s okay, because Harry is busy anyway watching Draco’s pale, scarred backside (the last three weeks were hell for him, because it’s so god dammed hot outside – summer’s near) wondering how he got these scars in the first place.

“You’re rude again,” Draco says not looking up from his task.

“What? I didn’t say anything!” Harry answers defiantly.

“But you are staring,” Draco answers putting toast on a plate.

“Yeah…” he says and stands up…because he is staring and because he wants… NEEDS to touch.  
He didn’t intend to…it just kind of happened and he doesn’t know how, because he wanted to leave the kitchen, wait for Pansy to come out of the shower, but instead he’s standing behind Draco. A finger on the biggest scar, breathing his scent in, running his fingers softly on the hard surface. Draco isn’t moving – at all. He seems not even to breath except for the sharp intake of air as Harry’s finger touched the scar the first time.  
Draco’s skin smells like cinnamon and something…not pepper…but something…  
“It’s you…” Harry breaths into his neck and the plate shatters.  
There is silence. A few seconds maybe, but it still feels like a whole eternity, because such moments always do. Fucking always.  
And then there is movement: Draco turning around – pushing him slightly, Harry grabbing his wrist to keep him where he stands, smashing him hard into the counter. Draco trying to push him off, Harry gripping harder, pressing more. Draco stepping aside to kick Harry’s leg but instead stepping onto the broken plate – blood blossoming from his cut skin, smearing the white floor tiles. Collecting under his feet, smearing the floor when he moves.  
An outburst of silent violence.  
It’s familiar and alien at the same time. The strangeness comes from the silence. They weren’t silent when they fought in school – never silent always taunting each other, bitter, hateful, hurting words. Draco’s eyes are narrowed, his mouth a bit open: a silent admission that he is in pain. His skin is bruising under Harry’s hand. And his breathing is too loud, deafening Harry. He can barely stand it. And of course there is the SCENT. The fucking cinnamon and not pepper scent his body is radiating and…he is near. Right there, pressed against the counter and Harry just WANTS.  
Because he wanted so long.  
“You are fucking her,” he says, breaking the silence at least.

“You are fucking her too,” Draco answers. Harry squeezes his wrist harder, because he is hurting, because he’s mad, angry.

“I wish you lied,” Harry says quietly.

“No point in lying now… you smelled me on her,” Draco answers, looking Harry straight in the eyes.

“I wish you lied,” Harry repeats, looking at his hand where he’s hurting Draco.

“She didn’t shower…” Draco says and Harry looks up. His eyes sharp.

“After I fucked her,” Harry clarifies. Draco nods.

“Merlin! That is so…” Nuts? Crazy? Perverted?  
Something shifts inside Draco, he’s leaning in – and there isn’t really much space to do that, they are so close already.

“Hot?” he supplies in a low whisper that makes Harry shiver. He shakes his head, because he needs to deny it. “I had her before you came along…she wanted you…I wanted…” Draco says in his breathy just there voice.

“What?” Harry asks, but he isn’t sure he wants to hear the answer.

“You too.” For a moment he doesn’t know where this comes from, but then there is Pansy’s naked body against his back. Her breath in his neck. Her scent, mixing with Draco’s.  
His death-grip on Draco’s wrist eases, he doesn’t let go though because he needs something (someone?) to hold on to. This is out of question -- he can’t do that… but Pansy’s tongue is doing something to his neck, and her fingers are under his shirt, and Draco’s lips are a few inches away and he just needs…”Give in,” she whispers, and he does, because he can have this, and he wanted this, and Draco’s lips taste like butter-vanilla and he knows he tastes like that too.

“I fucked you all these weeks too…” Harry whispers.

“You did…” Draco says and kisses him hard.

~end~


End file.
